Bow So Low
by ashehole
Summary: Power is a greedy animal, all consuming and merciless. Alina thinks she can be the balance to the Darkling's desires, but she is not immune to what is infinite. An AU where Mal dies, Alina doesn't lose her powers, and the Darkling gets to live. Rating to possibly change. Alarkling, Nikolina.
1. Salvation

**o.**

"_You might make me a better man."_

"_And you might make me a monster."_

**i.**

The light filled her so completely, she didn't believe that her mortal body would still exist when she came back down. Alina found, through this surge of power, that she did not want to come back down. She wanted the sun and the stars, could feel her exploding with their intensity, dragging it through her veins and letting her nerves catch on fire. She could taste blood in her mouth and smell the way it crackled on her fingers - Mal's blood, coating her hands. Driving the knife into his chest. Listening to him die.

Her head was thrown back, mouth opened wide as she screamed, screamed with power and grief as light filled every corner of the darkness. Her cry was joined by so many others, a cacophony of pain and agony that elated her. She wasn't alone. She would never be alone again. The screams of terror whispered that to her, pressing gently against the tide of light.

And in the distance, she heard her name. A gentle caress of syllables from a lover she had wanted and feared and could want again. That was what the syllables of her name told her, said over and over again.

Alina.

_Alina._

Say it again.

She wasn't sure if she spoke it or felt it, her words spoken with her power as if speech were beyond what she had become in this moment. Antlers at her throat, scales on the pulse of her wrist, Mal's blood etched into her skin.

"Mine."

**ii.**

Alina did not destroy the Fold that day. She did not destroy the Darkling like she had meant to. Too overwhelmed by her own selfishness - _the universe and the greed of men_ - she let him fold her into his arms and tame the swelling storm that came with three amplifiers. His fingers stroked along the antlers that were as much his as they were hers.

"You made the right choice," he whispered to her. He did not care that her army - her _friends_ - took the advantage given to them by their moment to escape the Fold.

A faint glow under her skin cast shadows across his face, and for a moment, she could lie to herself and say that it was Mal holding her, Mal telling her that she had done the right thing.

**iii.**

Bone encircled her empty wrist. A rib, made in a hasty request as she quelled the force that begged to be let out.

A bone that was close to his heart.

Alina wasn't sure how she got the Darkling to agree to let her wear it, but she wondered if perhaps he was overshadowed by what she had become.

**iv.**

It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment that Alina decided to take the Darkling's hand, her fingers entwined with his as they stood within the Fold and didn't leave. She could hardly say how long they waited in the darkness while his Grisha cowled in fear and awe, while the volcra died out around them. The few that remained stayed far away from the girl who glowed.

She knew that she did not agree with the boy that was once Aleksander. She knew that deep in her heart, in the roll of her stomach at the feel of his cool flesh against hers. She knew that every time she turned her wrist and felt Mal scrape against her as a constant reminder.

But she also knew that she couldn't be alone anymore. That only the Darkling would understand what it was inside of her. That she would consume anyone else who got too close, as if she could burn them alive if they did.

She was unnatural.

"What now?" she finally asked with a hoarse voice, surprised that it was her speaking.

His face, cast in eternal shadow against her glow, revealed a smile. A softness around his lips that belied the darkness of his slate eyes. He was content, she realized. He was beautiful. She felt a tugging in her bones that made her want him, as if finally, _finally_, she was able to do something right.

"You chose me." The way he said it made it sound like she had no choice. Maybe she didn't. Maybe she never had. Maybe her acts of rebellion were always a design to do exactly as he had wanted.

"Will you make me your queen, Aleksander?" Despite herself, she could feel a smirk tugging at her own lips. Her power made her bold. Her power made her his equal - and his slave. But from the look he gave her, she could see that the bond went both ways.

"Tell me what you want, Alina."

As if she were allowed to have a choice. His fingers tightened around hers, and she narrowed his gaze at her. Was this a test? What was the right answer?

Kill him, the fragile part of her whispered. Be done with him and everything he will do and had done. Disappear into the world before you become him.

But she ignored that part of herself. She was no longer a scared girl, but something far more. She was eternal. She was life. And she could reign in the parts of Aleksander that were undesirable.

"I want to negotiate."

He wanted the throne.

She wanted the safety and pardons of her friends.

He wanted the execution of the Soldat Sol.

She wanted the monster that was once Nikolai to live.

He wanted her to wear a _kefta_ of black.

**v.**

Only David and Genya return to the Little Palace, a month after the Darkling marched on Os Alta and took the throne for his own.

"Ravka will be safe," he promised in that lilting voice of his. He sounded sincere. He sounded as though he cared. "No longer will we fear war. No longer will Grisha be terrorized."

The Darkling's Ravka did not include _otkazat'sya_.

Alina's Ravka did. She would be his balance, she told herself as they stood in the middle of the capital. A crowd of the weary gather in the square to view the spectacle laid out before them.

She stood next to him, her face stony, her hand resting in the crook of his arm like a good supporter of the new regime. Even after a month, she could not yet figure out how to dampen the glow beneath her skin. The black silk of her _kefta_ was good for one thing, at the very least.

The remainders of her army, with their bright suns tattooed onto their faces watched her as if she would deliver them from this fate. Save us, their eyes seemed to say to her. She wanted to look away, but the moment her head moved, she could feel the cool touch of the Darkling's hands on her chin, bringing her back to them and the creak of ropes as their bodies swung.

"Long live the Darkling!" an _oprichniki_ proclaimed. "Long live the Sun Summoner!"

Chants of _tsar_ and _tsaritsa_ drifted from the crowd.

Alina wanted to hate it, but she could feel herself clinging to their words. To their acceptance. She wanted them to love her, worship her, fear her for what she was. The creak of her soldiers mingled with the chant, as if providing the music for words that were sealing her coffin.

Her left wrist burned something fierce. Her chest ached with something like sorrow that couldn't be expressed. And when she was able to glance away from the corpses to look at the Darkling instead, she saw that he was watching her already.

Testing her.

Feeling her.

Making sure she wouldn't run, that she wouldn't abandon him now when he had come so far.

Her fingers pressed roughly into his arm, hard enough to feel bone through silk and flesh. "You will not go back on our deal now that you've gotten your end sealed, will you?"

His lip curled, eyes flashing hotly. Once, she thought, she would have shivered at the look. Would have been afraid. But he wasn't the sun, no matter how desperately he wanted to possess. "You've taken Ravka with me, and yet I'm still your villain, Alina." His voice was low, harsh in her ear. His breath puffed out against her cheek.

"You will _always_ be my villain, Aleksander."

He stiffened at the sound of his name spoken so publicly.

"Just like I'll always be your salvation, right?" For the first time since before Mal's death, a quiet smile curled at the corner of her mouth. It hurt, as if the muscles didn't quite understand what being upturned meant or how to even keep the expression.

"I've lost you more than once, Alina," he said softly. There was an air around him - not quite sad, not defeated, but bordering on the two. He was as much her slave as his, she reminded herself again. "I don't think you would go away if I killed him, but I will respect this one absurd desire of yours."

She tilted her head, now that he had freed her enough for movement. In the darkness of one of the buildings, she could see the still body of a monster that waited, perched.

_Nikolai._

He hadn't perished in the Fold along with the closest volcra. He hadn't been healed either. Her mouth went dry as their eyes met, even from this great distance. When they had been in negotiations, Alina wanted to ask the Darkling to free Nikolai from the shadows, but she had known that his death would have soon followed.

The Darkling followed the line of her gaze, face like stone when he caught sight of the monster he had created.

Nikolai was a threat as a human. As this being, he was nothing more than a child's tale.

This was the best that she could do for her friend until she had the power and expertise to use _mervost_.

"Come, Alina."

The Darkling dragged her away, a scowl permanently etched on his face as he led her back to the carriage that awaited them.

**vi.**

The throne she sat on was hard against her back, forcing her straighter than she had ever been, the weight of the royal crown threatening to snap her neck.

But she endured the pain with a faintly painted smile on her lips. Ravka needed balance, and she was the only one who could give it to them now.


	2. Tsaritsa

**i.**

"You're a queen now, and you still can't ask for a different color," Genya laughed, voice brittle as she took in Alina dressed in her black silk.

As always, Alina was unable to meet her friend's eyes, as if she had betrayed everything that Genya had sacrificed for by reuniting with the Darkling. When she was able to look at the other woman, for the briefest of seconds, she saw nothing but pity and concern. She wondered if those just weren't the emotions she was feeling in those seconds that their eyes met.

What kind of queen, what kind of star, was she if she couldn't even look at her friend.

Genya still wore red - she had earned it, after all. The Darkling had looked at her and David coolly when they had returned, following his missive that they would be pardoned. Misha had followed them, Oncat draped over his shoulder, but the Darkling had not noticed him.

Why would he?

She wore red, her face immaculate except for the eyepatch where her eye once was, a patchwork of scars scrawled over her skin. She had held her head up when she faced the Darkling, Alina scarcely breathing.

They had been welcome back. He had agreed, after all.

"I could ask for it," Alina told Genya, picking at the gold threads in her sleeve with a bit of unease. She was wearing the Darkling's colors, yes, but it wasn't because of their marriage. It wasn't because she was his queen; it was because she was in mourning.

"Will you?"

Alina moved restlessly, the muscles in her legs aching. She was tired of sitting, and she was tired of standing endlessly, too. She was tired of the taut smiles and the demonstrations and of the Fold that still stood and of the bones that wrapped around her wrist like an anchor.

Mostly, she was tired that didn't seem to be tired at all. Light continued to flood her body, splashing a soft glow on the floor and elongating Genya's shadow as she paced.

"You're driving me crazy, Alina, will you stop?"

For the first time in the few months that her friend had returned, Genya touched her. Her fingers wrapped firmly around Alina's wrist, forcing her to stop. She didn't make a sound, but her lips formed a silent exclamation. How good it felt to have someone else's hands on her other than the Darkling.

"Sorry. I'm nervous," she confessed.

Genya arched an eyebrow, as though she didn't quite believe her. "Nervous? I have never seen anyone so confident before. Besides me. And Zoya."

At Zoya's name, Alina's mouth tugged into a frown. Strange how much she missed her when she was suddenly gone. "She probably hates me now."

"Probably," Genya agreed. "You were meant to set us free." Her voice dropped to a whisper now, and she stepped in closer so that it was only Alina that could hear her. "You weren't meant to become his queen, Alina."

Alina clenched her jaw. "I couldn't find another way, Genya. He has done terrible things, but so does everyone in war. Did we think we could kill him and then somehow prevent the Fjerdans and the Shu from invading us? What of the vacancy on the throne if we couldn't save Nikolai?"

"So rule with him."

Even as Alina said it, she knew there was something wrong about the words. She knew there was something wrong with the Darkling, too. He was a monster, a beast with the body of a man. She loved him, though. She loved him, and she hated him, and she needed him. There was no way she could explain that sort of feeling, the welling up of "like calls to like". Genya could never understand what it was to be what Alina had become with three amplifiers. She couldn't even be sure that the Darkling did, but he was the closest she could come to.

And if she could find a way to temper him, to quell the loneliness all these years had brought him, she had to try. In that sort of salvation, she believe that she could get him to see things her way.

"Plenty of people will follow him, through fear and desperation. And because they think he will save them."

"And they'll follow you because you're a living saint." Genya brushed her fingers through Alina's loose hair, a stark white strand curling under her expert touch. She sighed happily at the sight. "For someone who didn't want to accept an emerald and the alliance of a prince, you have certainly found your way into political structure."

She scowled, but not in anger. Distaste, mostly. How had she come to that point, or had it always been the Darkling tugging her along? No. She was adept at her own political machinations, and as she had once told him, she was an apt pupil.

"You have to trust me, Genya," she murmured, taking her friend's hand between her own and holding it tightly. "I am still the same Alina."

There was that bitter laugh again. "That Alina, the one who entered the Fold to kill the Darkling? She's the one who died that day, right along with Mal."

**ii.**

They were gathered in the war room, seated at a table that once held Mal and Nikolai and Zoya and now held the Darkling and his men instead. Alina sat next to him, and she took solace in his strength, in his ability to lead.

She snuck a glance at him, drinking in his profile, the way his brow would furrow at things he didn't like to hear, at the arch when he was intrigued. Mostly, she drank up the way his slate eyes found hers every now and then, as if he were drinking her in as well.

Strange, she thought, to be so attracted to someone she found she hated most of the time.

Strange, really, to not hate him as much as he deserved to be hated, too.

"What do you think, Alina?"

His voice cut through one of his underling's mid-speech. The whole room felt like a vacuum of silence. It was all she could do to not react in surprise. That would be a weakness, and she couldn't present herself as weak in front of this crowd of vultures.

In front of the Darkling.

Still, she was not prepared for the question. Alina felt more like a pet, a prop, than she did a leader in the army. But she had led the Second Army very briefly before she had helped the Darkling scurry into the hole left by the remnants of the Lantsov family. Not well, she thought, and not without help of the very people who now gathered an army of their own.

Her gut twisted, a streak of hot anger and nerves flitting through her.

"We need the First Army," she finally said, unable to stand the pressure of every pair of eyes boring into her.

The twitch in the corner of the Darkling's mouth told her that her answer was the wrong one, and that in itself made her feel like she was making the right decision.

"Why do you think so?" a man named Gregor asked, folding his hands on the table and leaning forward with a barely contained sneer. His _kefta_ was red as blood, and for a moment, Alina thought that she could see Mal's staining her hands again. Her heart hammered in her chest.

She tilted her chin up so that she could level a cold gaze at him, trying to emulate Zoya as much as she could. He was insignificant. Fodder. He could die as easily as Ivan had. "Ravka is not solely for Grisha. The people are just that: people. Some of us were born from _otkazat'sya_, some of us have them as family. They deserve the right to fight for Ravka."

She turned to look at the Darkling now, pinning him down with her stare. He was blank in return. "Make them the Second Army. Promote the Grisha to the First. We cannot have peace in Ravka if we ostracize."

He frowned now. It was clear he didn't agree with her, in the tension that radiated between them.

Alina wouldn't be moved on the matter.

"I agree," Genya spoke up from the opposite side of the table. She wore a hard smile, lounging back in her seat as if she had no cared. Alina could see the tense lines of her body, however. "Even _otkazat'sya_ can defeat Grisha, and they outnumber us."

If Alina could have laughed in this instance, she would have.

Genya spun it in a way that even the Darkling looked interested.

**iii.**

He slammed her hard into the wall of the library, nearly knocking the breath out of her. His gaze was hot, terrifying. He could have scorched her alive if he wanted to, she thought.

The Darkling settled for constricting the light in the room, his shadowed hand pinning the wrist with Mal's bones to the wall. "What do you think you are doing?"

"I was going to read, but I guess now that it was the wrong idea." She tried to keep her voice light, teasing. She was a star, bright and terrible, but sometimes she was still a young girl in awe of a horrible man.

"I meant with your suggestion, Alina." His breath tickled her cheek. "You would have me taint the army with them again? After all that I worked for? That we achieved?"

There was a maddening light in his eyes, and she ached. She ached for the little boy he must have been and for the man he was, so blinded by his prejudice and coldness for those not like him.

"Haven't you already taken what you wanted? The throne is yours. _Ravka_ is yours. You wanted to save this country and keep the Grisha from becoming obsolete? You _have_. But there is more to Ravka than Grisha, and we both know it," she told him. This was something she wouldn't back down from. He could have Ravka and the army and Mal's bones wrapped in shadows. He could have her. But he couldn't take the truth from her.

He was quiet for a moment, fingers so tight around her wrist, she worried that he might be able to break her amplifier. "Do I have you?"

The question stunned her. Now that they were mostly alone, she allowed herself to show her surprise. It was in the widening of her eyes, in the tilt of her opinion of him, in the reduction of the white-hot anger that threatened to spill from her fingertips. "You didn't take me."

"No," he responded in a soft voice. "I didn't take you."

"Aleksander."

A visible shudder ran through his body, and his mouth hovered over hers. She wanted to cringe back in revulsion. A queen who didn't touch her king. What a mockery of marriage. But she wanted to, that other part of her whispered. She wanted him to kiss her and slip his hands under her clothes.

She wanted to forget the way that Mal had felt against her body so that the crushing loneliness of his loss didn't threaten to overwhelm her any longer. She was an immortal with the depth of a girl.

"Say my name again," he demanded from her.

"Will you kiss me?" Alina had to know.

"Say my name again, and I will kiss you wherever you please," the Darkling compromised.

"Aleksander."

His mouth was hard and demanding against hers, all desperation and teeth and a pounding need that swept over her from his touch. Like called to like, she remembered, as he pressed his body into the lines of hers.

**iv.**

In a public declaration for all of Os Alta to hear, with notice spreading like wildfire throughout Ravka, the Darkling let it be known that now and forever more, Grisha would be part of the First Army. They would be the salvation of Ravka, the first line of offense against her enemies.

Unease whispered behind closed doors and shuttered windows.

The Second Army was little more than a body of militarized corpses, the people said.

Alina closed her eyes to said words, wishing that people understood war was death.

**v.**

Sometimes, she would spot Nikolai in the distance. Always nearby, but never close. He hadn't come close to her since before Mal's death. Even as the months ticked by, there he remained. He was a gargoyle, a demonic shape shadowing her.

Today, he sat perched on the roof of the palace, so still that he really could have been a statue. She stopped, watching him as he watched her. She ached to call out to him, to ask him to come back to her.

Maybe he hated her, she wondered. Maybe he was her punishment for Mal's death, for failing to free him from his form, for taking the throne without him. He had wanted to make her his queen, and she had denied him that, hadn't she?

Alina knew, in her heart, that she would have never become his queen.

She finally lifted her hand. It was a wave, barely, some sort of friendly gesture to let him know that she was still here. His lifted as well, mirroring her.

Genya finally got up to her, breath puffing out in the cold air as she panted. "I thought I spotted you. What are you- _Oh._"

Following her gaze, Genya spotted Nikolai as well. There was a sharp stab of worry that he would flee now, but he didn't. Genya rested her fingertips against her scarred face as she watched the former prince.

"He hangs around sometimes," was all that Alina could manage to say.

Her friend nodded. "He's here for you."

Alina gave a sharp shake of her head. "Os Alta is his home. Why wouldn't he be here?"

"Alina, you can be so very dense sometimes, and I say that as being married to David," Genya said.

Turning back to look at Nikolai, she wondered why he would stick around for her. She wasn't worth it. Unless…

"If it's because of me, it's because I might be the only one who can change him back."

But she couldn't. Not without the Darkling knowing. Not without him killing Nikolai.

It was difficult, but Alina turned her back on the hulking shadow on the roof, walking down a different path and forcing Genya to chase her again.

"Are you?" she finally asked when they were back inside.

The warmth of the Little Palace sunk into her bones as she slowly unwrapped the scarf from around her neck. How could she begin to answer that question? What could she tell Genya that wouldn't make her sound heartless?

"I need to study magic more," she muttered under breath, looking just beyond Genya's shoulder.

She could feel her friend's stare on her, evaluating. "Well, where do we start?" Her voice was shaky, as if she couldn't be sure why she was volunteering for _mervost_.

Alina gave a crooked smile. "Maybe David would know."


	3. Wasteland

**i.**

Little secrets should be good, Alina thought to herself as she watched the Darkling pace about the room. Their room. She sat at a bench before her vanity table, eyes following him. Hair wet from a bath, shirtless. He was distracted, irritated, like a caged animal, but still she let her gaze slide over the muscles in his body, the way they flexed with each turn, with each clench of his fists.

It had been a year and a half since they had taken Ravka for their own, slowly building from the ground up. She was surprised by that, by his patience in not making everyone bow to him immediately. Maybe it was her influence, she wondered, lip caught between her teeth gently.

Maybe he had always been right about what she could do for him. He was not better, not by the standards of Mal or Nikolai, but for himself?

"What's wrong?" Alina asked as she leaned back against her table, elbows propped up on the ornate wood.

He finally stopped pacing, swiveling to turn and face her. "It isn't enough."

"What do you mean?"

He smiled at her, the edges of it hard and cruel, sending a flutter through her stomach. "Ravka isn't safe yet, Alina. Not while her enemies are still out there."

She thought of the Fold and when he had used her to envelop Novokribirsk. Faintly, she felt the same fear and anger as she had then, but now she felt something different - a certain _rightness_ to it. Not to use it on Ravka and her people anymore, but to use their power against Ravka's enemies.

She was not a good queen, not by any stretch of the word. She was, as she had always been designed to be, a figurehead. But she felt the fire of fierce protection, of wanting better for Ravka. She wanted an end to wars and watching her people suffer.

"Who do you want to take?"

He moved closer to her, standing between her knees as he leaned down over her. "It's not about taking, Alina."

She gave him a hard smile. For Aleksander, it was about taking and calling it justice. Calling it a necessary tactic that he believed would settle the matter.

"Tell me what your plans are, Aleksander, and how can I help you with them?"

A momentary flash of surprise takes over his face, quartz eyes narrowing even as his eyebrows rose high on his pale forehead. Alina buried the worry that sprung up at the look deep inside of her. She had not been what he had wanted from her, slowly coming around to the idea of _queen_.

His hands came down on either side of her, forcing her back until the wood of the table pressed hard into her spine. One jolt of pain, barely worthy of recognition. He was close enough that his breath mingled with hers, dancing over the lines of her mouth.

Saints, she wanted him. It was a sudden jolt of realization, more painful than the way her spine curved. Her glow cast shadows over his skin, and it was so fitting, that she could do more than stare. Not that she had never had this thought before, had never succumbed to the temptation of his body before this, but she had always tried to bury it after.

Not a good queen. Not a good saint. Not a good wife.

Her fingers danced along the edge of his jaw, watching the way her inner light splayed over his face, the way it twisted to make him both lovesick man and dangerous monster. The way it made her want him all the more. She was not good at what she was trying to do, but damn if she didn't feel as though she was taming the beast.

"Your plan," she whispered in the minute space between them. Alina would do better, she promised herself. She had to. For Ravka, for Mal's sacrifice, for her own sanity. For a boy named Aleksander with a dream.

He still didn't answer her, as if fascinated by her easy light show, by her frank interest when it had always been him to initiate anything between the two of them. He kissed her, hard and needy, teeth nipping at her lip, tongue soothing over the bite. And then he grabbed her hand still lingering at his jaw, enveloping each bright fingertip in his darkness as he kissed them as well.

"I will hear no objections from you?"

The plan was not said yet, wasn't laid out at her feet, but he was still extracting a promise from her before he would tell her.

Alina would have to agree, or there would be nothing for her to watch over.

She thought of Novokribirsk again, of the screams of the people as the volcra launched themselves at a new source of food, of the little boy's face. She thought of Zoya's angry words about the family she had lost there, killed by the Darkling. For a moment, a shadow descends over her as well, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. There was no darkness in Alina's life now, except for what she welcomed into it.

"No," she answered in a soft voice. "You will hear no objections from me. It's time we showed Ravka that we mean to keep her safe."

His hands dropped to her hips, fingers digging sharply into the bone beneath her flimsy nightgown. "I promised, Alina, there would be no more borders."

He lifted her onto the vanity table, kicking the bench aside as he moved between her thighs. Her legs hooked around his, drawing him in closer, her hands moving along the bare expanse of his chest.

She should be horrified. Maybe she was, but only of the past horrors she had seen come from what they could do together. Of what the Darkling would do when not stopped, when he was angry with her or desperate or willing to do what it took for his home. Now, she felt a thrill of excitement, as dark and twisted as her desire for him pooling into her gut and setting her veins on fire. This was what power felt like. It felt like drowning, it felt like victory.

It felt like love.

**ii.**

Fjerda. His plan was Fjerda.

Genya stood next to Alina. They both stood out, vibrant, harsh. Somehow, Genya had convinced Alina to let her do her hair, and it was pulled back in a crisp bun, held together by gold pins.

_We're not here to negotiate peace,_ Alina told her.

But Genya smiled, her good eye dancing with mischief. _Then we better look twice as good for destruction_.

She wondered if that was really how her friend felt, if she was okay with what they were doing.

Genya had been okay with it before, though, hadn't she? Before the nichevo'ya had gotten to her.

A dull throb rose up in Alina's shoulder at the thought. Not now, she reminded herself. Now was not the time to have doubts, to question the people around her - including herself.

Two women stood side by side, staring out at the field around them as they waited for the Darkling.

"Will he create another Shadow Fold?" Genya whispered under her breath, so quiet that Alina had to strain to hear it.

Will he create more darkness, was what her friend was really asking. Would Alina allow him to swallow more people whole, _innocent_ people. Or was that just Alina's own paranoia?

Was everything anyone said to her anymore a lie, a ploy to get her to talk?

Was Aleksander the only one who was forthright with her anymore?

That was laughable, to suddenly find herself in a position where her husband might be the most honest person in her life.

The look Genya was giving her was guarded, one finely plucked eyebrow arching at Alina. She was waiting for an answer. She was hoping that _Sankta_ Alina might still be in there.

Alina couldn't be so sure of that, anymore.

She folded her hands into the muff she wore, both to keep herself warm but to also hide the glow of her skin. Better to not let too many people catch her light as they hid in the shadows of the forest.

"We aren't here to negotiate," Alina finally said.

Genya rolled her eyes. "I had realized that when we decided to camp in the wilderness, despite the fact that one would think the _tsar_ and _tsaritsa_ of Ravka could go where they would please and still be welcomed into any court." She sniffed indignantly.

Despite herself, the situation, her doubts, Alina laughed. It was a light sound, soft and young. It brought a smile to Genya's face and a scowl to a few of the nearby oprichiniki who surrounded them.

Sour faces, all of them.

"How much of the world are you willing to let him take, Alina?"

A good question. "He has only made one Fold, Genya. Once we show the world the might of our power, they couldn't possibly continue to stand against us, could they?"

The look Genya gave her was pitying, as if she couldn't understand why Alina couldn't understand. And she really didn't. This was the plan, to take one country and make it a victim so that the world would see what would happen to them if they threatened Ravka, if they didn't fall into line.

Her pulse fluttered rapidly.

"Alina…" Genya reached out, placing a hand on the queen's arm. "I say this because I am on your side. I am here for you, and also for what you think is best for Ravka."

She bit her lip. "You think we shouldn't-"

"I _think_ that you shouldn't allow him to be the one who decides what the world is remade into," she whispered.

Genya was right. Alina stayed with him to be his balance. Instead, she was simply holding his chains from the shadows he had created for her.

Glancing down, she stared at her covered hands for a moment before dragging a dark gaze back up to Genya's face. Her friend's mouth was puckered in a stern expression, her eyepatch looking even more fierce now than it had been.

"No more Shadow Folds, Genya," Alina promised.

**iii.**

The Darkling took her hand, calling to her power. They were in a valley outside of Djerholm, capital of Fjerda. Their army was small, so as to not draw too much attention, but Alina couldn't see how they would be unable to draw attention. Their brightly colored _keftas_ were a dead giveaway, especially in a country that reviled Grisha.

A bitter taste filled her mouth as she remember Harshaw and the tale of his brother.

Fjerda had to be the one who learned their lesson, she agreed. It was easy to see the reasoning behind her husband's ideas, but she would not so blindly let herself be swept away by them anymore. She would weigh each one for herself. They were partners.

He had shackled her so that they could rule equally, and this was what she would do.

Alina pulled her hand out of his grasp, and he jerked his head in her direction.

"Alina."

They would free the Grisha from the fear Fjerda held over them. _She_ would give them freedom and release to join the First Army of Ravka. Finally, Fjerda would know what fear of burning would be like.

"I can't let you create another Fold, Aleksander," she said under her breath. His own hitched at the sound of his name. She was always too daring, barely whispering his truth in front of others.

"You said there would be no objections." Anger flared in his face, but she wouldn't back down from this, not anymore than she had about keeping the First Army.

"I'm not objecting to making them bow," she whispered fiercely.

Behind them, their army shifted uncomfortably.

"Then what is it?"

"You have proven your power once before. You have shown Ravka what you could do, and they have fallen in line," Alina pointed out.

He leaned back, staring at her with more curiosity than anger now. "You wish to be the one to do it?"

"I will be the one who does it."

**iv.**

Years later, hundreds of them, Djerholm would still be nothing more than a crater of ash and death. Few survived who could say accurately what had happened, and more stories than truths blossomed from that moment.

Alina walked away from the Darkling, out of the shadows of the mountain. Her breath puffed in front of her in the cold air, clouds marring the sky, but she was still able to find the sun. She drew in its power, felt the weight of her amplifiers as she held out her arms. Behind her came several hisses and cries of pain as those looking directly at their queen nearly went blind.

Her world was a visions of whites and yellows and blue twisting into swirls and stars. Heat gripped her body and crawled up her throat as she called forth her power.

Alina was not sure what she would do, or how she would do it. Whatever lessons she had been secretly taking with David - who was not at all happy nor completely knowledgeable about the inner workings of magic - were not enough to create anything as grand as the Shadow Fold. And no, she wouldn't allow the people to suffer the same fates of darkness as the Darkling had. She still had nightmares about the human screams of the volcra as much as she had about the deaths of her army, about nearly everything else that haunted her these days.

This would either be one more small piece to add to the pile or something she could live with during her long, unnatural life.

Scorched earth filled her nostrils, heat washing over her again and again. Until the Darkling rested his hand on her shoulder, snuffing her out. When Alina opened her eyes, what lay before her was something indescribable. Beautiful and harsh, the ground black and scorched. The snow had melted, but so had the dirt and the grass beneath, the trees scorched, and the city beyond them nothing but pillars of death.

Alina took a shuddering breath at the damage she had caused. She should feel horror. She should be ashamed and shocked and trembling with regret.

Aleksander wrapped an arm around her waist, soaking in everything before him with a small smile.

When they both finally turned away after what seemed like hours, she found their men on their knees before her. They were slack jawed, eyes wide with terror and awe and a sort of worship that she knew well when she had been a saint.

"_Sol Koroleva."_

Alina felt pleased.

**v.**

Only Genya did not bow before her.

**vi.**

Fjerda, as was planned, fell into such swift disarray that they did not dare put up a protest against the invasion of Ravka into its borders, both armies working in tandem to secure only the smallest of threats. Those known to hunt Grisha were put on trial before the King and Queen of Ravka.

Those known to hunt Grisha were executed.

Grisha were given safe haven in Os Alta for a price: they had to serve with the First Army.

Most chose to do so.

**vii.**

Nikolai disappeared, and Alina found that she was happy for it.

**viii.**

"I have some news," Genya told Alina softly one morning. It had been a year since the fall of Fjerda and the wasteland that its capital had become.

Her friend was distant, as Alina found Genya to always be these days. She was quiet and listless in a way that she had not seen since the march underground. She was distancing herself from Alina, but then, so many people had regardless.

"What is it?" She pushed a plate of sweets closer to the woman, who was well on her way to nearing the end of her pregnancy.

Genya gave a brief, polite smile as she bit into a pastry. Even that she couldn't deny.

"There has been some talk of a rebellion."

Alina smiled. "There are always rumors about rebels, Genya. What we are doing is not going to make people happy at first."

Her friend shook her head. "I have heard that it's Zoya who leads them."

Alina snapped to attention at that, sitting up straighter in her chair. "But Zoya-"

"Was never confirmed to be dead."

She was quiet for a moment, a pang of regret echoing hollowly. "Do you believe it's her?"

"Yes," Genya replied quietly.

Rumors of small pockets of rebels were always a constant. Sometimes they would even root them out, and they would be suitably punished.

Alina didn't think she could hurt her friends, even if they had abandoned her.


	4. Eradication

**Notes:** This chapter does feature an execution at the end of it, although not told in detail.

**i. **

Alina watched as a new group of Grisha children were brought in. A large one, surprisingly. They were Fjerdans, children who had been hidden underground and whose parents had resisted the laws Ravka had set over them. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to keep her face blank as she watched them.

But she couldn't help the tug of a frown at her lips or the way her heart ached for them. Because they were bright eyed and excited, but she could see the darkness that had settled in their own hearts. Alina didn't have to ask to know what had happened to those that resisted the First Army coming in to _rescue_ these children.

And that was exactly what she had to keep reminding herself. They would be sad for now, and she would understand their pangs. She, too, had been an orphan. Soon, though, the hunger for their new lives, for their new family, would replace those feelings. She knew they would.

One girl looked up. She was older than the others, her blonde hair cut severely short so that tiny curls clung to her ears. A dark green gaze connected with Alina's dark ones. There was darkness in those, a soulful anger that pierced her.

Maybe not all of them would accept things so easily.

The queen pressed her lips together in a thin line.

**ii.**

"You can't make them all accept slaughter so easily," Genya sighed that night when Alina finally dumped her concerns on her friend.

Alina drew one leg in toward her chest, resting the arch of her foot on the lip of the chair. Leaning forward. her chin rested on her knee as she watched Genya sip delicately at her _kvas_. How anyone could sip, let alone do it with the gentle grace of Genya, at that disgusting drink was beyond the _tsaritsa_.

"Their family disobeyed the law, Genya. They don't have to accept it, but they should understand that laws are there for a reason."

Her friend was quiet for a long time, draining her cup first before talking again. "Listen to yourself."

"What."

"You're beginning to lose who you were, Alina. What happened to the girl who would have fought against such policies? The Fjerdans have done cruel things to their Grisha before, but those families just wanted to protect their children."

"From what? A good life here, in the First Army? Serving a Grisha king and queen?"

Alina licked her lips and shook her head. A fire stirred in her gut, but she couldn't tell if it was anger or shame or both. Anger at Genya for speaking so boldly. Shame at her words because she sounded right, but Alina wasn't sure if they felt right. Things were complicated. Such a tired, boring word, she thought, but that was the truth.

"From invaders. From the very queen that burned their capital into nothing but ash and dust," the Tailor said so softly, Alina almost missed it.

"Do you hate me, Genya? Do you think what I did was wrong?"

Genya swirled the drink in her hand a bit, staring into her cup. Alina waited, fearing the worst. She already hated herself, a secret she kept so closely guarded that even Aleksander would never know. But to know that her only friend left to her did, she wasn't sure if she was strong enough to handle it.

The truth was, to answer Genya's question, that the girl before was dead now. The Alina from before Mal's death was no longer alive. She had shifted, evolved. She had become aware of so much, her light touching every surface of this world. Her ideals had fallen to the wayside, but perhaps not her naivety.

"No," her friend answered. Her green eyes were on Alina, fierce and honest. "You did what you had to, for our sake. For Grisha. I have always believed in that part of the Darkling's dream."

"I feel like there's a but coming up."

Genya flashed a smile before the tips of the fingers on her free hand touched the scar at her cheek. "_But_ I won't stand by unnecessary cruelty, in letting a monster bring Ravka into a false light."

Her words were treason, as they always were these days. Or at least bordering on them. Alina knew that, but she agreed, too. That was why she was here, wasn't it? To stop unnecessary cruelty. To not let a monster take the throne.

"I will talk to the Darkling," Alina finally said. "About the families."

Something in Genya relaxed then. "You are the only thing that can change his mind these days. I know he wanted to do away with the Second Army."

A small smile wormed its way to Alina's mouth. "You have no idea. I have to fight just as hard with him as I do our own enemies."

"You're the one who can do it, Alina. You have always been the one."

There was more faith in those words than Alina deserved, she figured. Maybe letting that girl she once was die was the wrong idea.

"I'll do what I can, Genya. But I don't control the Darkling anymore than I let him control me."

There was doubt in her friend's eyes, briefly, before it was slammed shut. She leaned forward before Alina could think too much about it, taking her hand. "Enough of that talk, though. What I really came here to tell you is something more important."

Alina's nose wrinkled. "More important than rebellions and orphans and whether I have the Darkling on a leash?"

"I'm pregnant."

She sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide. For a moment, she did not feel like a goddess trapped on earth, but like a normal girl. Normal, human, surprised, excited. "_Genya."_

"I know, I know, it's not the best sort of timing, and trust me when I say it was not something David and I planned to do anytime soon." There was an undercurrent to her words that made Alina supply the words "or ever" in her thoughts. "But I'm happy. And don't you think I'd make pregnancy the newest trend?"

Alina had to laugh at that, light and free. "I really hope not." She squeezed Genya's hand gently. "I'm happy that you're happy. I can't wait for this child."

They spent the rest of the night chatting about the future baby, but Alina's thoughts were never far from the present state of Ravka.

**iii.**

The Darkling was taut with tension, his body like a wire being pulled too tight. He was so many things, but Alina knew that he loved Ravka more than anything. This was slowly beginning to destroy him. The wars, the rebellions, the small insurgencies that undermined their power. There was no unity for him, not like he had been dreaming.

It was killing her to see him like this. She had been at his side for five years now, and every small year of time in the well that they would have together knit her closer to him. She was beginning to understand how he worked in little ways. He was beginning to see that her softness was not at all a weakness.

Alina slipped her hand into his, startling him. Their fingers entwined, and he gave her a brief look before resuming his stare out of the window, back to the empty cabin at the lake.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked her husband softly.

"We should destroy that place," he muttered.

It wasn't the answer she had been expecting, and something cold reached inside of her and squeezed. "You're not serious."

"Sometimes, I think I might be. My mother didn't believe enough in my future."

"Baghra loved you," Alina hissed, her nails digging into the back of Aleksander's hand. They bit into skin, but he never made a reaction to them. "The moment that building comes down, you will regret it, Aleksander. And I won't comfort you."

"You're a cruel woman." His head turned so that he was looking at her now. A small smile played on his beautiful mouth. Reaching out with her free hand, she brushed her fingers over the look. This was how she wished she could present him to the world, instead of the sharp king who had taken the country by power and ego.

But this was reserved only for her, in their quiet moments.

"You're a cruel man. It works out, and you're being childish if you think you can get rid of your mother's cabin like it'll purge her from your system." Her lips pursed.

"I said I was only serious about it sometimes." He sounded put out, like a petulant child, and it brought another smile to her lips.

Her husband: monster and child, all wrapped up in one beautiful package.

"What's really bothering you? It can't be an old cabin."

She cut at the heart of the matter, tired of digging through the layers he would force her to go through until she grew tired of the original problem at hand. His eyes lit up as she did so. She was learning, and he encouraged it.

"These rebels."

"You know, that's all you have to say?" She crossed her arms over her chest, turning to lean with her shoulder pressed into the window frame. "The rebels are always on your mind. They're on everyone's minds."

"We're doing nothing to stop them."

"We're doing plenty to work against them," Alina countered. "We're doing exactly what we should be doing to stop them."

His chin tilted, and he stared down the slope of his nose at her. There went the humor, the good fortune she had piled up only moments before. "We're not destroying them. Because you still harbor some feeling for them. What should I tell our people, Alina, when they cower in fear over another attack? What should I tell our soldiers when another encampment is destroyed?"

Her lips parted, but the words would not come.

And in her silence, he continued. "They say the end is always a force of wind so strong, it resembles the Cut." His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. "I never realized that Zoya had such strength."

She sucked in a breath now. "I am not refusing to destroy them because we were soldiers together once."

Alina didn't want to call them friends, even though that the was the word that rebounded through her. They had refused to come back to be with her, and that was not what friends did. They had abandoned her.

"They are as dust, Alina." His fingers were on her chin, gently leading her face until she was looking at him. She hadn't realized that she had been staring hard at the snow on the ground, letting the white blind her as much as the sun did when she summoned it. "You have no reason to hold onto them anymore when they have not held onto you."

He was right. It hurt, a dull and aching throb that began in her wrist and moved through the rest of her body. She had just been thinking the same thing.

"They are still Grisha."

"They are not the Grisha we want to save," he murmured, leaning in so that his lips brushed against hers. She kissed him, gently. Because she could, because he was so close, because he was all she would have left.

There would be no Genya or Zoya or Mal or these people now. They would die and scatter like the ash of Djerholm.

"None of them can be saved?"

"They think Zoya is a queen more worthy than you," he whispered, his lips trailing along the line of her jaw until his breath puffed against the shell of her ear. "Why else would they follow her instead of you? You, Alina, are the light in the dark."

A shiver went through her body, at his touch but also at his words. She was the light. She would bring peace to Ravka like she had promised. So what if she had chosen a different route? A different man to call husband? Why should that matter to them?

Zoya had said she didn't want to live in the darkness, but that was what Alina was fighting against. She hadn't allowed Aleksander to create another Shadowfold. She kept the otkazat'sya in her army, _her_ army. They were not the Soldat Sol of old, but they were new. Rebirthed in her light.

He kissed her again, grounding her. Her light splayed across his face and played with the shadows around them. "When you accept that they must be eradicated for the good of us and for Ravka, maybe then you will accept the power that you're afraid to call your own." He traced a line down her neck, swirling his finger over her collarbone.

"I accept my power, Aleksander. What does one have to do with the other?"

**iv.**

They hunt.

Sometimes just the elite of the First Army, so quiet that the small rebellion never realized the mistake that they've allowed a spy in until too late.

Sometimes, they send the Second Army and watch as they fight each other into dust.

Zoya's army is strong. Stronger than hers had been when she was just _Sankta_ Alina. The idea burned in Alina, like the jab of a knife to her side until it festered into a wound that wouldn't close. Zoya was capable, but Alina was powerful. And she was learning. At the Darkling's hand, she was learning.

And she could be far more ruthless than Zoya.

But never once did Alina venture into the hiding holes of rabbits.

**v.**

Alina bounced Mariya on her knee, and the little girl cooed gently. She had thought about children, long ago. In a daydream of a life with Mal far away, where they could have lived happily ever after. She thought about the orphans now, and did what she could to take care of them. But Alina was wise enough to know that now was not for children, even if Genya had done differently.

"She's beautiful," Alina said softly, twisting soft red curls around her fingers.

Genya gave her a smile, quiet and happy. "She does take after me." Leaning in, she then whispered, "Thank the Saints."

"Do you think she'll be a Tailor, too?"

That brought a shrug to her friend's shoulders. "At least it doesn't hold the same meanings that it used to."

Mariya babbled incoherently. There was a light in the darkness, Alina reminded herself. This child was proof. It gave her comfort.

**vi.**

Adrik stood before the reigning queen and king of Ravka, his tattered sleeved unpinned from his dirty _kefta_. His hair was unkempt, his face bloodied, bruised, nearly unrecognizable. He stooped, as if he couldn't bear the weight of his body anymore. It made it look as though he were bowing to them, and the look on the Darkling's face - that hungry smile that desired so much - said he thought the same thing.

Alina's heart hammered in her chest, but she kept her face neutral. Or so she hoped she did, sending up a prayer to Mal that she did not trip and show weakness in the face of her husband or the court.

Looking at Adrik's face, however, made that hard. She remembered him losing his arm five years ago. She remembered how he kept going, anyway, how he survived and fought with her. How he learned to summon wind with one arm. And pretty well, from the looks of it. Their special force had had trouble bringing him down, and he had sacrificed himself for the rest of his group.

He was brave.

He was a hero.

The way he glared at Alina - in her her perfect _kefta_, the gold strands practically glowing in her light, with her tamed hair bound to the top of her head with jeweled pins, and her cold face - made her feel like garbage.

The Darkling's hand brushed hers, just barely, but with it came the amplification of her power. It was a gentle reminder that he was here, and she was greater.

That Adrik was nothing in the face of them.

"You do not wish to tell us the location of the headquarters of your group?" the _tsar_ of Ravka asked once more.

Adrik spat on the floor at their feet, a glob of bright red blood splattering near Alina's boot.

She didn't move.

She wanted to plead with the boy - the man, now - to not do this. To let her help him.

But the Darkling would not rest until they were wiped from the earth. It was the only way. It was the best thing for their country, for their people who needed their protection and security.

"You will kill me either way. I would rather die knowing you are still clueless," the Squaller hissed.

A smile tugged at the Darklin's mouth, but it was something foul. "You will die, yes. But there is a difference in whether it will be painless or not."

"Adrik," Alina breathed. "Please."

He drew his lips back from his teeth. There was something hard in his eyes, a sort of hatred she had never felt directed at herself before. "Traitor. Do you like warming his bed at night?"

The Darkling did not give him another chance.

The crowd's screams when he summoned the nichevo'ya were nothing compared those of Adrik's.

Alina did not sleep for weeks.


	5. Trust

**Notes:** Warnings for dead bodies and mild sexual situations this chapter.

**i.**

Alina stared up at the dark canopy that covered her bed, as endless as the shadows that hounded her. The sheets clung to her body, the only thing she had to preserve any shred of modesty she had left. Nightmares again. She was alone, Aleksander's side of the bed cold and empty. Still, her hand reached out to his side, fingers tangling into the sheets as if she could somehow summon his body back to her.

Where had he gone?

She closed her eyes, trying to banish the images imprinted on her lids, as if her mind was broadcasting them still.

She dreamed of blood and shadows, of darkness that snaked in. She had watched with glee as the darkness slithered inside of Zoya and claimed her much as it had claimed Nikolai. Now, though, there was no satisfaction in that dream. A hollowness rang inside of her.

She did not see herself as a traitor, but she was certainly starting to feel the weight of those words. Alina could _understand_ why they would think that way. They didn't understand what she was trying to do.

Her eyes opened again.

Slipping out of bed, Alina grabbed a dressing gown, wrapping it around herself before slipping into her boots. It was summer and warm, and she didn't really care about who saw her. She waved off the _oprichniki_ who had been settled outside of her door. They were not to follow her, even though she could see the hesitation in their faces at the order. The Darkling, after all, was their true master.

Once, it would have been Tamar and Tolya outside of her door.

Once, it would have been Mal.

There was nobody on the grounds as she slipped from the Grand Palace into the Little Palace, from the Little Palace to the small hut near the lake. It was still abandoned, a stale scent hanging in the air from years of neglect. She sat in the chair next to the fireplace, the only light in the room coming from her skin.

Alina wrapped her arms around herself, huddling over. She was waiting, she realized, for Baghra to return and tell her how foolish she was being.

**ii.**

"We are leaving."

Alina gave Aleksander a sharp look. Her chin tilted, strands of white hair that had escaped the ponytail she fashioned for herself tumbling into her eyes. "We are?"

His hands were behind his back as he stood before her. His eyes were hard, dark. Anger, she realized. He was thrumming with rage barely suppressed, and though the situation must have been severe, she was pleased to see that he was able to keep his darker urges in check.

Genya's words floated back to her, about how she was the only one who was able to control him.

"We've found another camp."

Her mouth went dry even her stomach turned sour. Another rebel camp, he meant. Another place filled with their people, with _her_ people. She couldn't do it, she thought, her fingers brushing over Mal's ribs. She could not go out there with this man and slaughter people who were misguided and afraid.

She could not hear Adrik's screams anymore. Poor, brave, infuriating Adrik.

He sensed her hesitation. The whole world could have sensed her hesitation. His movements were fast, like a viper striking. Cool hands and long fingers gripped her face tightly enough that it hurt. Her immediate reaction was to struggle, even as his grip on her tightened until she thought he might rip her head off.

Aleksander leaned in close until the only thing she could see was him and him alone. His beautiful, horrible, agonizing face. Her husband and equal.

"This is not the time to be weak, Alina," he hissed.

Her hands cover his. "I'm not weak."

"You're afraid to face them. I can see it. I can _feel_ it, worming around inside of your soul."

Alina sucked in a breath, her heart hammering in her chest. What did he know of souls when he destroyed his so long ago?

"You've seen the destruction I will do for Ravka," Alina spat. "Ravka needs to see that its leaders will not bow to those who won't fight for peace. They were friends, Aleksander, but I understand what's at stake here."

He smiled then, sharp and cruel, before it melted into a more gentle look. His hands dropped, but she could still feel the pressure against her nerves, each one on fire.

It would have been fear picking up her adrenaline like this, but she knew her husband too well now in these few short years. It wasn't fear that hammered her heart, but excitement, desire, the need to protect Ravka.

She was still hesitant about fighting those she called friends, but she was not hesitant about keeping her country together.

She rubbed a hand along her face. "Whatever hesitancy I have, Aleksander, isn't for you to question," she snapped.

Aleksander arched one dark eyebrow at her. "Isn't it? When at any moment you might shove a blade between my ribs, too?" His fingers tapped the amplifier against her pulse. "You left me for the tracker multiple times, and you still killed him for power. I'm not going to let my guard down around you."

She was still for a moment, letting anger wash over her. A cruel smile split her lips, tugging them over her teeth. "Good." She wanted to tell him that she would never kill him, the same as she couldn't on the Fold that day, but it was a lie. Whatever Alina had become that day, she was power. She was _life_ itself, and she was death. And she would kill Aleksander if she found that she had no control over the monster that he was anymore.

"We leave in the morning." He leaned in, brushing his lips over her temple. "There will be a war meeting in an hour."

/

David stared back at Alina with even darker circles under his eyes than she ever had before she discovered she was the Sun Summoner. There was something oddly human about the way he looked at her, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly. She was honestly surprised to find him in such a disheveled state, but then again, it seemed like Genya was most interested in changing Alina than she was in changing anyone else. Even if her husband was included in that.

"Are you okay, David?" Alina asked gently.

"Mariya doesn't sleep well," he mumbled through a yawn. "Forgive me, _moi tsaritsa_-"

"Alina," she corrected.

"-But Genya sleeps like the dead now, so it's either me or Misha who cares for her."

It took Alina a minute before she could even remember Misha, could place his face and his name. And then her heart squeezed. "How is he?"

He did not talk to her anymore, that poor boy. He never forgave her for Mal's death.

"Strong," David said, but that was all she could get out of the man.

There was a wall between them, and while that didn't seem too unusual for a man such as David - so consumed as he was with his own work most of the time that part of Alina was still surprised that Mariya was born - this was _different_.

He was blocking her out. She was his queen, his leader. She was not his friend, and she could sense that. He wouldn't give her anymore details of his life than he could manage, regardless of where Genya stood. Part of her had to admire that, his loyalty to a movement that was being wiped out slowly.

Alina took a seat next to him at the table in his workshop. It was strangely quiet today, but she supposed he had dismissed his apprentices to help with the weapons he had come up with recently to fight the war.

David stared at the table for a moment before he looked back up at her. So many people these days refused to meet her gaze, so afraid of the queen that they would rather risk seeming impolite. Not David. He met her, gaze for gaze, without backing down.

There was backbone in this quiet, eccentric man.

"I've done more research," he finally said. "That's why you came, isn't it?"

Alina nodded. "The more I know, the better I can-"

"Kill them off?"

Her face twisted. "No!"

"Will you ever help the _true_ king?"

She felt like she had been slapped in the face. Her fingers twisted into her _kefta_, nearly ripping the fabric. "David," she hissed. "The Darkling is the true king."

"Do you really believe that, Alina? I have stayed because Genya tells me that you have a plan, that the Darkling is necessary. But all I see is a woman who has abandoned her principles."

Her lips thinned out. "Stop-"

"Or you'll let him kill me like you let him kill Adrik?"

David had too much backbone, Alina decided. He had drawn a line, and he had crossed it. Alina schooled her features into a mask of neutrality. He was Genya's husband and her only hope for learning _merzost_ without her husband.

"No," she said. "I wouldn't."

He took a while to say anything in return, and she didn't have much time before she had to leave. This would be a pointless endeavor on her part, and she was sure what she was off to do wouldn't help much in persuading him to help her.

With a sigh, she got to her feet.

And he spoke. "I found a few more books, but I don't know how much insight they will be able to give you." He picked up the items gently from the floor, pushing them across the table to her. They were old and smelled like mildew. If they weren't older than Morozova's journals, they were certainly kept in worse conditions in that case.

Still, she picked them up gingerly, cradling them to herself.

"Thank you, David."

"Eventually, you're going to have to ask him how to do it. I'm sure you can figure out an excuse to get him to."

She bit the inside of her cheek hard. "I didn't want Adrik to die."

He was back to staring at his work. She didn't even wait for him to reply, but as she stepped through the doorway, she could hear him whisper, "I wish I could believe that.

/

Alina wished she could, too.

/

She hid the books beneath Baghra's mattress, knowing that her husband would never come into the hut to search for them.

**iii.**

They left early the next morning, an army fit for war.

She rode with Aleksander in his carriage, watching the sallow faces of her people watching them leave with wary looks. The king and queen of their nation should not be going off to war, those faces seemed to say. Especially not a civil war that was beginning to brew.

They should not be fighting each other.

She gave Aleksander a side long glance, drinking in his profile. He stared ahead, deep in thought. The corner of his mouth twitched as his jaw clenched. Without thinking about it, she reached out, letting her fingers brush against the twitch.

Finally, as if remembering she was there with him, he blinked and turned toward her. "I'm unhappy."

"I can see that," she breathed softly.

"I should apologize."

Both snowy white brows rose high on her head. She should have been pleased at him even wanting to apologize - Saints knew that Aleksander did no such thing. But that was exactly why she couldn't wrap her head around such a concept. "What for?"

"Doubting you." He kissed the back of her hand briefly before holding it. "You are mine, and I am yours. My will is yours."

She gave him a faint smile. "For Ravka."

"For us."

**iv.**

The stench of blood hung heavy in her nostrils, but no longer did she feel the need to heave with each soldier she brought down with the Cut. Zoya had been busy, it would seem, since Alina had grown used to the politics of Os Alta.

Before her lay the broken corpse of a broken priest, the Apparat who had tried so hard to make her into a pretty figurehead. A cold calm settled through her bones at the site of his insides, the way his blood painted the stone floor, at his sightless dark eyes staring in horror at her.

She had watched those eyes drain of life, _finally_. Perhaps she should feel bad, but she felt nothing but relief. Zoya was desperate, even if she was busy, to have recruited such scum to her cause.

"_Tsaritsa_," one of the soldiers said.

Alina glanced up at the sound of her title, zeroing in on the boy. "Yes?"

"We must keep moving if we are to meet up with the Darkling."

She nodded sharply. He was right, and Aleksander would be waiting for her. Still, she couldn't seem to move. She couldn't really keep her dark gaze from finding the absent Apparat's one. A giddiness hummed in her body. She was a goddess.

"Let's go," she told the Squaller. He smiled and followed her out of the ruins.

/

That day ended in their victory, but the campaign moved on.

The extermination, Alina thought. Because that was exactly how it was.

Perhaps she was still riding the high of the Apparat's death, because she went into the next battle more settled than the first, whipping light around her with deadly force. She killed some of her own that got in the way, but even their deaths never bothered her.

From the shadows, she could see Aleksander's grim smile, the eagerness in his quartz eyes. He was pleased with her willingness, and she was pleased with her lack of hesitancy.

After all, in the end, even her own soldiers were dust. That was the look that her husband was giving her. They could be easily replaced.

**v.**

She wasn't sure how she got here, not at first. Not until she spotted a familiar silhouette, the giant of a man standing in the distance. Alina had known better than to let herself separate from her guard, to allow herself to be cornered. But she also knew that she could handle herself.

Nobody could threaten her life, except perhaps Aleksander.

Seeing the man, though, brought a rush of memories to her.

"Tolya," she whispered into the darkness of night.

He inclined his head at her, slanted eyes watching her carefully. The Heartrender didn't trust her, and though she knew that was the smart thing, it hurt. He and his sister had followed her, had believed her to be a real saint.

Some saint, she thought bitterly as she took another step closer. Her glow was soft, easily swallowed by the night. He took her in for a moment when she finally reached him. They hadn't seen each other in some years. Five. It had been five years.

"You're alive," Alina breathed, trying to stop the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Queens did not cry, and goddesses sure didn't show favor.

"For now," Tolya agreed. Reality set in roughly. They were at war against each other. This was her enemy. He should die. "Come with me."

She wanted to ask where to, but then she realized that he didn't mean to just lead her somewhere. He was asking her to abandon her soldiers and her country and her husband. The fact that the rebellion would still even want to accept her, after all that she had done… They were stupid.

Or desperate.

Alina shook her head. "I can't."

"Then kil me now. I will not be caught by your men to suffer the same fate as Adrik."

To her credit, she didn't wince. But she did fall silent in the midst of his words. Tolya was not one to talk much, but now he was. She took a deep breath. "I can't."

His large hand rested heavily on her shoulder. He could, right now, attempt to kill her. He could crush her heart, stop her breathing, like he did to Ivan. Alina knew he wouldn't. Tolya was still her man, and she had a feeling that he would be, even when he fought against her.

Madness crashed in around them. A sharp voice rang out in the darkness.

Aleksander was searching for her. There was no yelling her name, but she could feel him tugging on their tether.

She placed a hand on Tolya's chest, above his heart. "Run," she told him. "Run and do not come back. Run and do not fight."

"I will fight," he told her.

"You will die."

He gave her a wry smile that stabbed at her. "Maybe then you will wake up from the spell power has cast on you."

Tolya did run, however, while Alina went to meet her husband and stall him for as long as she could. Her friend would die, but it wouldn't be tonight.

**vi.**

"We have to return home," Alina told Aleksander a few months after they had begun this war. His face was pressed into her bare stomach, mouth tracing lazy lines into her skin. She wanted to have a serious discussion about their plans, but already she was feeling herself tumble headfirst into the desire that gripped her whenever he was near.

His mouth found her hipbone, kissing it. "So you said earlier," he breathed against her.

She didn't bother to stifle the moan or the way her body moved beneath him. "Just because you're trying to distract me with sex doesn't mean you're going to succeed."

"I did for some time, didn't I?" He moved down her body to leave a trail of kisses along her inner thigh. "I can again."

Her fingers threaded into his loose, dark hair, tugging his head up sharply. Saints, she wanted it. His distractions again and again, but she was meant to be his equal. She was the Sun Summoner, and he would listen to her when she wished to speak.

"You have my attention, Alina," he said with a breathy laugh.

"Ravka needs us."

"Which is why we are out here, for Ravka. You agreed that the resistance must be stopped."

He thought she was going back on her word, and why shouldn't he? She had gone back on so many words in their few short years together. Would this be their many lifetimes as well?

"You wanted to rule this country, Aleksander, and I helped you achieve that. You might think you did it on your own, but you and I both know that without me, you would have nothing but ashes."

His lips thinned out but he got to his knees, pulling away from her. She let his hair go, sitting up as well. "So we let the rebels win."

"No, you idiot," she growled. "You let me handle it."

That gave him pause, and he watched her carefully. "Like you handled that Shu Han man before?"

Now she was the one growing uncomfortably still, her heart beating frantically. How had he known about that? Why hadn't he said anything until now?

Because he was testing her, she thought bitterly. Everything she did was a test.

"I know what has to be done. I gave him a choice, and he made the wrong one. What happens now will be on him," Alina told her husband, and he seemed to be contemplating her words. "You have to go back to Os Alta and take care of our country. Politics are not my thing."

He smiled, curling a strand of her white hair around his finger. "That, I'm afraid, is very true."

She smiled back, ignoring the pit of fear in her stomach. "I will lead our army. Do you trust me with that?"

His smile turned more bitter. "We will see."

**vii.**

Despite his misgivings, the Darkling did return home to Os Alta with part of their army.

**viii.**

History would speak of the ruthlessness with which _Sol Koroleva_ treated her enemies.

But it would also speak of the mercies she gave to those who surrendered, and to those who were innocent.

**ix.**

As Alina marched her army closer to the boundary of the Shadow Fold, she received a messenger. Nadia rode into the camp, straight-backed, her face a mask. If she held any hate for Alina, she hid it well.

"I come with a message from my queen," Nadia said as she dismounted.

"I am your queen," Alina replied calmly, but inside a storm raged. Of course, Zoya would call herself a queen.

"You are a traitor," Nadia said. Her words were soft, but Alina could feel the devastation that was behind them. If she had the chance, Alina was sure that Nadia would kill her.

"Just tell me the message."

"She would like to meet with you, in the remains of Novokribirsk." Even as she said it, the Squaller shuddered, as if she wasn't pleased with the idea.

Neither was Alina. "She would dare to venture into the Fold?"

Nadia cocked her head. "The _Veterok Koroleva_ dares to do much more than become the lapdog of the Darkling."

Alina only barely adjusted her Cut so that swiped past Nadia with blinding light, enough to destroy her own tent and kill the horse the Grisha rebel had rode in on.

If Zoya wanted to meet in her own domain, then so be it.


	6. Veterok Koroleva

**Note:** Hey, guys! November is coming up this weekend, and that means that it's time for Nano! I'm a frequent participant of the whole crazy thing (since 2008, actually), so I'll be taking a small hiatus from this fic for the month so I can get down and dirty with the original story I'm working on.

**i.**

Alina chose to not tell her husband about the encounter with Nadia and the summons that she had been given from Zoya. She was - not afraid, but uncertain. He would order her back, she thought. He would come for her. He would ruin this for her, and it was a fight between Alina and Zoya.

She had no doubts about that. This was not something that Aleksander could take from her, and she couldn't risk him killing Zoya before she had the chance to…

Alina wasn't sure what chances there were. It had been years, long enough for Zoya to make it clear that she would not bend to Alina's will. She wished that Genya were here to help her, but the Tailor was back in Os Alta with her family.

And Genya had never made it quite clear whose side she was on anymore.

"Tell nobody," she had hissed at her men as they cleaned the mess she had made. "Especially not the king. You are my army, and you report to me."

It was the soldiers of the Second Army who had agreed at once, but the Grisha were slower to respond.

That night, she took aside the Second Army's general, a man nearly twice her age by the name of Olaf. "Watch them," she said to him. "If they try to send a message to anyone without approval, they are traitors."

"And the traitors must be killed," Olaf whispered back to her before bowing deeply.

War was a strange beast, Alina decided as she walked back into her tent that night.

She would take a small group with her into the Fold. What more would she need in there? Zoya might have thought she could hide out in the darkness, but the dark was as much Alina's as the light was, too.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Alina buried her face in her hands. She still felt so young in some ways, and too old in others. It weighed on her bones, made her tired. She was so tired of this war, of fighting people that shouldn't have been fighting. Would it always be like this? Would Ravka always be at war with itself?

If that were the case, then her sacrifices meant absolutely nothing. She had hurt so many people to fail now.

**ii.**

There was a time not long ago that Alina had no control over her own power, and it was strange to think that it was only a few years ago. That it hadn't already been a lifetime. She had little power, and then she had no idea what to do with it. Not without help. Not without her friends.

She shuffled through the notes that David had given her, and the books that were almost too brittle for her to touch. That was how she felt right now, while trying to teach herself _merzost_. The smartest thing to do, as David had suggested, was to ask her husband to show her.

They could learn together, she realized.

But she also knew that Aleksander would ask questions. He would pry. He would take something she loved from her.

Her fingers twitched. What more did she have to give to him?

Nikolai had fled, and that was who she was learning for.

He was forcing her to hunt the dissenters, people who had been her friends. So what did it matter if he took them without her?

Alina had nothing but him.

And he would never take himself from her.

For now, though, she would learn for herself and pick apart what he had already accomplished, and that would have to be enough. She was an apt pupil, Alina kept reminding herself. She had turned the Fjerdan capital into a wasteland. She wore three amplifiers. There was nothing she couldn't do that she didn't set out to do in the first place.

She chewed on her lip for a moment. Part of her wanted to appear before him, not just because she wanted to pick apart all of his secrets, but because -

Leaning back in her chair, rubbing a hand over her face. Saints, she missed him. Terrible, painfully, like something had been torn out of her at his absence. She'd been the one to insist he return home, and here she was, hoping he'd just appear again.

Alina Starkov was not some little girl. She was the Sun Summoner, the Queen of Ravka, a former _Sankta_. And she certainly didn't _need_ her husband here to hold her hand.

She just wanted him here.

For now, though, she put aside those thoughts, as though she could summon him if she kept thinking about him. He would ruin everything, otherwise. He would twist her ideas, he would take them from her.

So Alina pushed Aleksander from her mind and read when she had the chance, and practiced during the day when nobody would question her light. It was nowhere near precise, not like Aleksander's control.

Even with three amplifiers, all she could really claim was raw power as her own. Even then, it was only through the deaths of others that she could have this power.

The practice did not go well. It never had. She was powerful, but unfocused.

/

"Alina." There was relief in his smile when he saw her, his hand ghosting over her arm.

"I'm glad I caught you alone, or else this would be awkward," she said with a laugh. It had been only a few weeks, but even seeing him like this was enough to release the pressure that had been building in her chest.

He could see that, she noticed, with the way his eyes lit up, with the curve of his possessive smile.

"I wouldn't have cared." His hand slipped to her waist, before he pulled her against him.

It was real, but not real enough. She wanted him to touch her, but now wasn't the time. She slid out of his grasp and ignored the hurt look he shot her.

"You're not here for the pleasure of seeing me, though," he quickly gathered.

She lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. "I've missed you," she told him, because it was an easy enough admission that would put him at ease. And because it wasn't a lie. That was probably the part that made him accept it instead of questioning her. There were no daggers in her hand this time.

"But there's something else you need from me." Aleksander clasped his hands behind his back, walking slow circles around her. Alina kept her head forward, barely even following him with her gaze. Let him feel as though he was cornering her, pinning her down until she broke.

She was weak against him now, it was true, but she wasn't spineless.

"The nichevo'ya," Alina breathed softly. She watched as he paused in front of her, dark brows crawling high on his head. "How did you discover how to make them?"

"But don't you know already?" A smile tugged at his lips, but it was cold, thin. "Your power is my power. My power is yours. Don't you already know my secrets?"

Fear and anticipation curled in her gut. He couldn't hurt her, and she couldn't really hurt him, not in this state. But when they ended up together again, she would have to find a way to quell the monster again.

There were a million ways she could go about this, a million routes that Genya or Zoya or Tamar would take.

Alina was not charming, smooth, or upfront enough to begin to emulate the few women she respected the most.

Her fingers danced along his jawline, and he leaned into her touch, like she knew he would. "They are mine, but that doesn't give me the knowledge of what I need." Her finger tapped gently at his temple. "You know, though."

"We've established that."

"What I mean is, why have a partner who is the same as you are, that you want to rule with as an equal, and yet keep that knowledge from me?"

His eyebrow arched. "You know the answer to that."

"I have no blade in my hand."

"Not now," he agreed. Taking her hand in his, he kissed her palm. "But every marriage needs its secrets. You have plenty of your own, Alina."

**iii.**

"Send this message to their camp," Alina said. She handed the sealed envelope to Olaf.

He was trustworthy.

He was expendable.

The letter slid into his saddlebag, a grim look on his face. "You are meeting with her, then."

Her jaw clenched. "Yes."

"Is this wise, _Sankta?_"

It had been so long since she had heard that title directed at her out loud, that Alina almost didn't register it. It dawned on her slowly, creeping over her skin with a level of uncertainty.

"You-"

"I am _not_ a rebel," the young soldier hissed at her from under his breath, before any of the others could take an interest in the situation. "You are my queen, _Sankta_, and I fight for what you believe in."

"I'm no saint," Alina said sharply.

The grin he gave her was so reminiscent of Mal, that she almost killed him then and there. Letting this boy get close to her was the worst idea she had had, and Alina could say that she had plenty of those recently.

"Isn't that what a saint would say?"

And then he was off to deliver her message.

They would meet in the Shadowfold within the week.

**iv.**

Olaf accompanied Alina into the Fold, as well as a few other select soldiers from both armies. She wanted to show a united front to Zoya and her band, that she was not a traitor. She had united the cause.

Alina stood in the middle of the skiff, her light enveloping them brightly as they moved slowly from the wasteland. Her soldiers were terrified, but she couldn't blame them. Long ago, she had been afraid, too.

Long ago, she had used her power to save Mal.

Nothing good ever came from entering the Shadowfold, and she couldn't understand why Zoya would put her base here. It was clever, of course. Aleksander and herself wouldn't have ever expected it.

She grit her teeth. Zoya must have been using David's technology that Aleksander had used once, so long ago and yet not long enough.

Her fingers twitched. She wasn't ready for this conversation, hadn't perfected her techniques at all yet. She would swear the army to secrecy and walk away if Zoya only wanted to chat.

Alina had to bite back a snort. Right, Zoya only wanting to sit down to a cup of _kvass_ and catching up. That was as likely to happen as Mal coming back to life.

She could only hope to convince the Squaller to stand down. To continue negotiations. Just long enough for Alina to perfect her _merzost_. In a perfect world, Zoya would even consider laying her arms down, and Alina was sure she could convince Aleksander to bring the wayward back into their fold.

Olaf took an uneasy step toward her as the screams of the volcra echoed around them. "_Tsaritsa_-"

"Don't worry," Alina said easily. The faint echo of a smirk was on her face. "I'm much better at this than I used to be."

His face paled considerably, brown hair fluttering in the breeze made by the skiff. "Yes, ma'am. I trust you."

"I hear a but coming on."

"I don't trust them. Anyway without your abilities would be crazy to come into the Unsea to set up a camp," the soldier hissed under his breath.

"That's the genius of it," Alina muttered dryly. "And I wouldn't say that Zoya is all that sane."

Conversation died then, leaving all of them in an eerie silence nobody was brave enough to break.

It felt like hours before they finally reached the ruins of Novokribirsk. In only a few short years, not even yet a decade, the city had definitely become what could be called a husk. It was as though the darkness weighed too heavily on the foundation of the city. With the sweep of Alina's power, she could see the crumbling buildings, the broken glass, the dark smears that marred wall and road alike.

She tried to not think about whose blood this was.

She remember that Zoya had mentioned having an aunt here once, that if she had known what the Darkling had been planning, she'd never have gone along. Or at least, she would have warned her family away. It made sense, in that vague sort of way, that Zoya would come here. That Zoya would make Alina come here, to face her own guilt.

Because it had been _her_ power, and the antlers that now hung heavier than usual around her neck, that had caused this city to wither like a flower without the sun.

"No sign of the dissenters," a Heartrender called out to them.

Somewhere, high above, a shadow scurried.

"They can't be hard to find," Alina said in return, unperturbed by the lack of Zoya's appearance. "In order to stay here, they'd need the light."

Now she felt burdened by her handpicked army. If she left them, they would fall victim to the volcra, but she didn't want to feel bogged down by their presence. Taking a deep breath, she wondered what Aleksander would do in her place.

_He wouldn't have come_, was her first thought. Not a very helpful one.

Beyond that, though, if her husband had chosen to be as foolish as she was being now, he would wait. She was, after all, Queen of Ravka. She was the Sun Summoner. _Sol Koroleva._

So Alina took a seat on the skiff, turning up her power so that it lit up this portion of the city. Human screeching filled the air in such an awful cacophony, that she nearly puked. It had been a long time since Alina had stepped foot into the Fold, and she had so many other screams to fill her nightmares these days, that she had forgotten the very real and human nature of Aleksander's monsters.

"So we wait," Olaf said below the sound, the only one who hadn't visibly flinched at the volcra.

She watched him with a discreet stare, wondering how it was that she could find a man who was so like Mal that it hurt. And if she wished to keep him in her army, she could never let Aleksander know who he was. An easy enough task, since he refused to have anything to do with the new Second Army.

"Movement!"

"I count at least four."

Alina continued to sit, crossing one leg over the other. She had to force herself to look relaxed, even though her entire body buzzed angrily.

The small group was led by a single person, who held a small, portable light in her hands. It flickered, but the woman didn't look nervous about her light. She trusted it would hold.

Alina clenched her jaw.

Zoya trusted David's work, as they all did.

The group stopped by the skiff. Zoya tilted her head, chin jutted out as if she could look down her nose at Alina. And somehow, _impossibly_, she managed to do so. So Alina rose, black kefta falling back in place again.

It didn't escape Zoya's attention, who looked her over with contempt. "Alina, so glad you could join us."

"I wish I could say the same for you, Zoya." A scowl wove its way onto her face.

Zoya tossed her head, dark curls bouncing over her shoulder. Somehow, even is this desolate place, she was still beautiful. As if war and darkness couldn't keep her down.

She should have been a queen, not Alina. And yet she was. She would have to act it. To keep her country together.

"Come home," Alina found herself saying. All eyes were on her, as if they couldn't believe that she was the one saying this.

She couldn't believe it either.

"There is no home for me in Os Alta, not when the Darkling sits on his stolen throne," Zoya spat.

A flutter of movement outside of the light drew Alina's attention. She shouldn't have looked, but she was drawn to it, as if the darkness was calling out to her. She shouldn't have taken her attention off of such a threat but she did.

Nikolai stood there, near Zoya but not too close. His fingers were clenched, his claws digging into the palms of his monstrous hands. Wings flexed, making her men wary. But his eyes, _Saints_, she had forgotten about his too human eyes. They stared into her soul and judged her.

Alina glowered. "So this is where you went."

A smirk flickered at the corner of Zoya's mouth. "He knew a real queen when he saw one." She was quiet for a moment. "He knew what we have always known, Alina. The Darkling cannot live."

"He can!" Alina argued with a sharp yell. "Haven't you seen the work we've been doing? Haven't you seen what I can do?"

"I've seen that you would rather worship at his side than to fight for what's right. I already told you, Alina, I won't live in the darkness."

She was exasperated, a chill to her voice. "How can there be darkness with me at his side?" A small globe of light formed in her hand, bright and yellow and soft, as opposed to the light she was keeping over her skiff.

A growl came from Nikolai, a warning sort of noise. A warning for who? For which queen?

"We've all seen what you are willing to do with your _power_, Alina Starkov." Zoya leveled a finger at her, accusatory and harsh. "You lay waste to Fjerda on his orders, and you didn't even blink an eye."

"They were our enemies. They _hurt_ Grisha. Zoya, you should-"

"The Darkling is our enemy!"

Cheers rose from the small crowd at Zoya's side, even while Alina's own men shifted behind her. A rifle cocked, lost in the sound of cheers. The flicker of fire appeared out of the corner of her eye. Her army was ready for a fight, to die for Ravka and its king.

"I'm your enemy?" Alina asked.

Nadia stepped up next to Zoya, wedged between her and Nikolai. Dark circles covered her eyes, cast deeper by the light her leader held. "Yes. How could you not be, Alina? You killed Mal, and then you went to warm the Darkling's bed. You abandoned _everything_ we fought for. You disgraced the sacrifices of the dead who got you where you are." A choked sob caught in her throat. "You tortured my brother, the same one _you_ saved."

The sting of Adrik's death was still an open wound for Alina, still haunted her. She carried him like a ghost on her back, his weight just as heavy as Mal's. As Baghra's. Her gaze fell on Nikolai, and she knew it was his weight that she carried, too. That she would continue to carry it with his betrayal now.

"You declared yourself an enemy when you did not sink your blade into his chest," Zoya said softly. For the first time, Alina could see the hurt in her once friend's face, the utter pain of Alina's betrayal, of what this fight was going to be.

All at once, Alina understood. There would be no way she could convince Zoya to come home. That she had gone mad with the power that Alina had left behind when she became queen of Ravka. Zoya truly thought herself a replacement for the Sun Summoner, and Alina didn't know how she could help her in that case.

"I'm willing," Alina began, "to give you all one last chance."

This time, she turned her gaze on the small group. It was them that she was addressing. They had been taken in by a charlatan, by a woman masquerading as some sort of savior. But there were no heroes in Ravka - except for Alina herself, who had tempered the beast and begun to heal her country.

"Renounce your loyalties to Zoya and her propaganda, and the only one who will be charged with treason today will be Zoya herself."

"I will _never_ betray the _Veterok Koroleva_," Nadia spat. Alina had already assumed that. Adrik's death and time in hiding must has stiffened Nadia's spine even more, and Alina wasn't sure if she was too bothered by her loss.

But the others - they deserved a chance.

"Does Nadia speak for you all?"

Zoya did not look back at her people, but kept her blue gaze on Alina herself. She didn't even look worried, much to Alina's chagrin. And she supposed she didn't need to be. None of them spoke. None of them turned to one another as if wondering who would break. They watched Alina with the same stony silence and unnerving flicker of light in their eyes as their chosen queen did.

Alina turned to look at Nikolai again, but he had slipped into the shadows as if he knew the fight that was to come.

She wondered who it would be, in the end, that he'd protect.


End file.
